


The Best Things Happen Unexpectedly

by tatteredspider



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Bigotry, Homophobia, M/M, Modern AU, angsty fluff, serious vehicular accident
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-17 18:15:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5880835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tatteredspider/pseuds/tatteredspider
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gabriel Trevelyan is an Advertising exec that is going through the motions of a life. Dorian Pavus is an ex-pat Tevinter trying to make a go of selling old and first edition books. If it weren't for the bigotry of a few Fereldan ass hats, they might never have gotten as far as they do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best Things Happen Unexpectedly

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a fluffy touchy-feely sort of story that turned into angst without my permission. Sorry about that.
> 
> There will eventually be a second part to this but for now I really need to refocus on the two long running pieces I've got going. Maybe once I get one of them done I'll be back to revisit Gabriel and Dorian.

Gabriel stood, leaning against his desk, staring out at the skyline laid out at his feet and sighed. As far as offices went it was luxurious, cream and bronze, with dark wood accents, large enough to accommodate both his antique partner's desk, a living room-style seating area and the large conference desk that he used for brainstorming with key employees. Late afternoon on a Friday, the rest of the building nearly silent around him and the sky a deep, angry grey threatening rain. And all day people coming up to him, giving condolences, asking how he was faring. 'Thank you.' 'I'm doing well.' 'Fine, thank you.'

But it was all a lie. Three years. Three miserable years without his wife, his child. Three years of putting on a brave face, then going home to an empty house and a bottle of rye. Or whiskey. Or vodka, whatever.

The phone on his desk began ringing but he left it be. Gabriel knew, without a doubt, that it would be his mother and he just couldn't deal with any of her bullshit, today of all days. He loved his mother, of course he did, but there were just some things he did not need to hear. Like how he was running the family business into the ground, even though Trevelyan Inc. was the highest grossing advertising firm in the country. Like how he needed to go out and get a new wife, even though he really didn't want to marry the first one and now that she was gone he didn't know what to do with his life. Like how he was never going to be as good as his father. Or his older brother Robert. Or her next door neighbour's son.

Gabriel stood, stretching out his back before grabbing up his trench from the back of the door with a sigh. He had to get out of here. The Herald's Rest Pub was calling his name once again.

“Good night, Mister Trevelyan,” a voice called jovially as her closed his door. His secretary, Josephine, smiled at him from her desk outside the door. Smile flashing white from the frame of dark skin and hair, she exuded pleasantness and made everyone that approached her feel welcome. If it weren't for her, Gabriel was sure he would have committed some sort of arrestable offence long before.

“Have a nice weekend, Josie,” he replied, shrugging into his coat. “See you Monday.”

“And you, Mister Trevelyan. I've let your mother know that you are no longer in the office and that your cell phone will have no service for the next several hours.”

Josephine was a goddess among men.

Thankfully, the rest of the office was quiet, nary a soul in sight. Just the way he liked it, this day of all days. As he left the confines of the building the sky finally opened up, cold rain coming down in torrents. A perfect sentiment to how his day had been, he thought. Thankfully, The Herald's Rest was just down the street and so Gabriel hiked his trench coat up over his head and made a mad dash for the bar.

The Herald’s Rest Pub was probably one of the worst dive bars in all of Fereldan. Well, no, not really. Gabriel was sure there were plenty of worse places but it was the worst place he’d ever stepped into. All dark woods and low lighting, and thick cigarette smoke even though it was illegal to smoke in bars nowadays. The patrons of The Rest were generally a solitary, quiet lot that minded their own business as long as he minded his. A little feminine chirp from the vicinity of the bar let him know that it was Flissa manning the drinks tonight and Gabriel actually grinned just a little. Flissa kept them coming without the grumbling that some of the others gave him, usually around the fifth or sixth bourbon on the rocks.

Gabriel hung his coat near the door on a rack that would soon fill with other coats just as wet as his, though most were nowhere near the quality. He never worried that his coat would disappear into some poor man's hands. And if it did, so what? He could afford a replacement, or just walk home without it if need be. He didn't really care.

Stools at the bar were thankfully fairly empty this time of the evening. A couple more hours, when the blue collar guys started getting off shift and The Rest would fill up, but for now it was pretty much just Flissa and himself, and one more poor sod farther down the bar. As he sat himself at the bar Flissa smiled and placed an already full glass before him. Michter's Kentucky bourbon on the rocks. He nodded to her and she turned to do whatever it was bartenders did. It was a sign, her knowing his order before he had even sat himself down. Either they were just that good here at the bar, or he'd been coming in here for much too long. And he didn't think they were really that good.

Gabriel thought back to the first time he had ever walked into The Herald's Rest. He'd just returned back to work after... His mother had been nattering at him all day, as per usual, and it had felt as though the office were inexorably closing in on him. Finally he had just stormed out, needed to get air or away or...something. He smiled remembering giving Josephine a raise the next day for leaving her in the lurch with his mother.

He'd walked the city for hours, just wandering, stopping at a nearby park and watching the ducks for a while until a group of young mothers pushing carriages had passed him. He'd walked again, finally stopping at the first bar he'd come across, in sudden absolute need to forget just about everything. They'd taken care of him at The Herald's Rest. And now he came here at least once a week, if only to forget again for a few hours.

Out of the corner of his eye Gabriel saw Flissa speaking briefly with the other bar patron and his natural inclination to people watch grabbed his attention. The man was slightly smaller than Gabriel but no less fit, with olive toned skin that spoke of either a foreign background or distant travels. His black hair was cut short, almost carved, styled up and away from his face and he sported a moustache that on anyone else would look absolutely ridiculous, oiled and curled at the ends. His attire was no less stylish with a white wool blazer over a jade green silk button-down shirt and black jeans so new and crisp they would have crackled with movement. The man sported small spacers in his ears and three very large, dazzling gold rings. But what really grabbed Gabriel's eye was just the hint of what would be a very elaborate tattoo peeking from the cuff of one jacket sleeve, the tips of what looked like peacock feathers gracing the back of the man's hand, pointing towards his long, elegant fingers.

“You may stop staring and just come sit with me if you wish to speak.”

_Foreign then,_ Gabriel thought to himself. _“North. Tevinter maybe? Not guttural enough for Nevarra._ It was then that he realized the man was actually speaking to him and Gabriel flushed. “My apologies,” he said, taking up his drink and swirling it lightly. “I did not mean to disturb.”

“Not at all!” the stranger replied, closing a thin hardback book that Gabriel hadn't noticed on the bar. “One can only read for so long at this kind of establishment before all the words begin to run together.”

Gabriel snorted then gulped down his drink, relishing the burn of alcohol settling in his stomach, before pushing off from his stool and moving down the bar. “And what, exactly, are you reading that it must be done in a bar with no lighting and enough smoke in the air to make one think it were on fire?”

“Why Hemingway, of course! All those big he-men and their cigars and guns and loose women. Perfect for the pub, don't you think?”

Gabriel laughed. Really laughed, not just a chuckle or a smile and the noise startled him. When was the last time he had laughed like that?

The other man looked at him with concern when Gabriel stopped his laughter so abruptly. “I apologize,” he said. “Sometimes I don't think before I speak. I hope I caused no offence.”

Gabriel blinked. “No! No, of course not.” He reached out, unthinking, placing a hand softly on the other's forearm. “It's just...been a very long time for me since I laughed like that.”

The man smirked at him. “That's too bad. You're quite the looker when you smile.”

Gabriel scoffed and turned to sit, moving his hand from the other's jacket, reaching to shake. “Let me introduce myself before you continue with your lies,” he grinned. “Gabriel. Trevelyan.”

“Dorian of House Pavus, most recently of Minrathous. At least until I took over the book shop down the street. And just so you're aware,” Dorian leaned over with a wink, “I never lie.”

“Never?”

“Well, hardly ever,” he replied with a cheeky grin. “I would certainly never tell Mother that I found her last soiree boring as all get out if she were to ask. Which she never would so it really is not an issue.”

Gabriel couldn't help it, he laughed again. He thought about his own mother and how, if she were to see him laughing like this today of all days, she would be pursing her lips in a moue of disapproval and he laughed all the harder. “I'm sorry,” he finally managed to gasp. “It's just been a very long time since I laughed like this and I'm having trouble controlling it.”

“Not a problem, my good man,” Dorian smiled and waved a hand, as though brushing away any possible negativity. “You laugh any way you damn well please. We should all laugh at even the most trivial of things.”

 

  
  


  
  


Dorian smiled at the strange man as he laughed, tucking his book under his elbow as he rested his hand beneath his chin. This was so not what he was expecting from coming into the bar that one of his customer’s had suggested. Varric meant well, of course, but the dwarf really didn’t understand why it was that Dorian tended to sequester himself.

But in the end, Dorian had given in, tucked a book under his arm if only to ward away the drunks that wanted to talk, and after locking up the shop, girded his loins and entered the den of iniquity.

Dorian had to sigh, thinking back to where he had been not one year ago and how different his life was now. The youngest Research Doctorate a the University of Minrathous, scion of the Pavus family, heir to his father’s political seat. But in the end he refused to live a lie and for that he was exiled. His father tried to have him committed to begin with, brain washing at it’s finest, but when that didn’t work, a quick talk with the University President and suddenly Dorian’s position had been downsized. His regular bank accounts, the ones attached to the family trust, had been frozen. The locks to the Pavus Manor had been changed.

But Dorian had been lucky in that he had friends. Inseparable since grade school, Felix Alexius and his father Gereon put him up for a few months while he liquidated everything and anything that was in his own name. When he made the decision to start his life anew in another country they tried their damnedest to talk him out of it, but he couldn’t be swayed. He had to get as far away from his father and the Pavus name as possible. He ended up in the town of Haven, nestled in the southern foothills of the Frostbacks; great for skiing, not so much for sunbathing.

It was a chance meeting in the local library that gave Dorian the impetus to open the shop. Southern literature generally consisted of Fifty Shades of Grey and anything by Brother Genetivi. Fine for the masses, but not so much for him. He’d been speaking with a bouncy, small young woman with thin black braids and an overwhelmingly bubbly personality about possibly ordering Fereldan history texts when he heard the laughing grumble of the man behind him.

“Daisy, how do I order a first edition around here?”

Dorian turned around in mild annoyance, then looked down to see the smiling dwarf with the serious amount of chest hair who had spoken. “Oh my. You could insulate a small home with all that.”

The man laughed loudly, causing the dark skinned librarian to turn and glare in their direction. Dorian gave her a knowing smirk. She might be sporting Prada, but she couldn’t pull it off. Maybe in Denerim, but certainly not at the public library of Haven.

“Oh, Varric,” the girl said with a tittering chirp. “You know we can’t do that sort of thing here. We’re not connected enough to get first editions. Have you tried the internet?”

The man pinched at the bridge of his nose. “Daisy, when have you known me _not_ to use the internet first? The only guy with the book I want is asking way more than it’s worth for the state it’s in.”

“What book are you looking for?” Dorian asked before he realized his mouth had moved.

“The Eton Choir Book, specifically the pieces by William Cornysh. And it needs to be in good condition. I don’t want to be spending twice as much just to have the damned thing restored.”

Dorian thought for a moment then pulled out his phone, tapping the speed dial and waiting for a response. He watched the dwarf as he began to speak. “Felix? Yes, and hello to you as well…yes…yes…Felix hush a moment, I have business to discuss. The Eton Choir Book that is in your father’s collection to be sold, is it still available? Good, good, all right send me a picture. And what is he asking? So little, why is that? Ah, all right I understand. Hold one moment for me will you?”

He tapped at his screen to pull up the photo Felix had sent and showed it to the dwarf who began grinning like a mad man and nodding enthusiastically. “How much does he want?” he asked.

“Fifty Sovereigns,” Dorian replied, raising the phone back to his ear. “What do I tell him?”

“Yes! Tell him yes! I’ll have the money transferred within the hour!”

Dorian could hear Felix laughing softly into his ear on the other end of the line. Obviously his friend heard the entire exchange. “Father says to have the man transfer it to you to keep as your commission and he’ll have the book shipped to your apartment as soon as he can get it packed.”

“All right Felix. Thank you. How are you feeling these days?”

Felix sighed. “About as well as can be expected, really. But you have a customer over there and no time to be chatting with me. I’ll call this evening.”

“All right,” Dorian replied sadly, knowing that by tonight Felix would be too tired for the long talk that he craved. “And thank you, Felix. I appreciate this.”

“Any time, my friend.” the other man said with a smile before cutting the connection.

“Holy Shit, Sparkler! You are a life saver! How did you ever get your hands on The Choir Book with just a phone call? No one had a copy in all of Fereldan and the Free Marches!”

Dorian looked down at the dwarf in surprise. “Sparkler?” he asked.

The man waved his hand up and down Dorian’s body. “Well, ‘cause you sparkle. More than anyone else in this assend of nowhere town, anyway.”

“Very true,” he chuckled. Putting out his hand to introduce himself, he said, “Dorian Pavus.”

The dwarf reached out his hand and engulfed Dorian’s own, fingers and palm thick and large. “Varric Tethras, rogue and storyteller at your service.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Messere Tethras. And for the record, had you any contacts for your book in Tevinter, you would have realized that the book market is near drowning in copies of The Choir Book. Every serious collector already has a copy and most are willing to sell.”

Varric stared at him, open mouthed for a moment before breaking out into peals of laughter.

And so _Antiquis Libris_ was born. Varric had been instrumental in finding the store front and attached apartment that he could afford- mostly because it was real estate that Varric owned himself- as well as beginning to find him customer’s through word of mouth, chatting up all of Varric’s bibliophile friends. Being one of the only book sellers with contacts in Tevinter made him somewhat sought after. Within months he was actually starting to see a profit, which was nearly unheard of.

But being from Tevinter, and rather flamboyant at that, also made him something of a target. Dorian may love his country but there were few in the rest of Thedas that felt the same. More than once he had woken in the morning to find racial slurs spray painted on the front of his building. He’d been yelled at on the street and once even been cornered in an alleyway in a confrontation that could have turned very bad were it not for his neighbour, Mrs. Piacosta, walking her dog nearby. And so Dorian found himself locking himself away in his apartment more and more, only leaving to work in the shop. He ordered his wine and groceries for delivery, spending all his free time reading or online researching book sales. It was no way to live. It was Varric that had finally convinced him that if he didn’t get out and get at least a little bit of sunshine, he’d probably turn into some kind of alcoholic mushroom, and Dorian had trouble picturing a colour that didn’t clash with fungus. And now, here he was, laughing along with one of the most gorgeous men he had seen since arriving in this bloody freezing country.

Gabriel Trevelyan was at least a couple of inches taller than his own six foot, with broad shoulders that tapered into slim hips. It was hard to tell beneath the obviously hand made Antivan suit, but he appeared to be fit, that he took care of himself. His hair reminded Dorian of crow’s feathers, dark and shining, reflecting the light in purples and blues, and cut longer than one would expect from an executive, reaching nearly to his shoulders. Dorian had to fight not to reach out and run his fingers through those soft looking locks as they swayed with the man’s laughter.

But it was his eyes that arrested him, that caught his breath and stopped all movement. To say they were blue was like calling the sky blue. Technically true and yet, nowhere near revealing all the nuances of colour that they held. They flashed and sparkled, framed by long dark lashes, and Dorian suddenly wanted to watch them forever.

 

“Thank you,” Gabriel finally managed to breathe, cheeks flushed with merriment that made Dorian want to reach out and brush his thumbs along the bone to see if they were as fine as they appeared. “It’s been too damned long.”

Dorian smiled, knowing exactly how that felt. “That is a sad state of affairs,” he replied. “I’ve always been of the opinion that people should laugh at least once per day. Find something completely absurd in life and laugh at it.”

“Oh really? And how does that work out for you?”

“I rarely laugh. It may be my opinion but that certainly doesn’t mean I actually live by it.” Dorian said with a wave of his hand, the gold of his rings flashing in the dim light of the bar.

“That’s too bad,” Gabriel sighed, lips still curled up in a smirk. “I bet you’d look good laughing.”

Dorian froze, eyebrows dipping down as he looked at Gabriel. _is…is he_ flirting _with me?_

  
  


  
  


  
  


_What in the Void are you doing?_ Gabriel hissed to himself. _You don’t go around, today of all days, flirting with people. And with a man no less! You’ve never had any interest in men. Ever!_

_But he’s so… beautiful. And he made me laugh without even trying. No one else has ever done that. And why in the Void not? Just because a man has never caught your interest before doesn’t mean it isn’t possible. Just flirt, dammit! It won’t kill you!_ From the corner of his eye Gabriel saw a slight flush creep up the other man’s neck and he felt a slight swell of pride. At least he seemed to have gotten his point across. Trying to flirt with women was something of a trial for him, ending in nothing but confusion on both their parts. “So, Dorian,” he managed to say, “what do you do all day that has you not laughing at the world?”

Dorian smirked, watching the blush creep inexorably up the other man’s neck. _So he was flirting, or at least trying to. How novel._ “I am in books, actually,” he replied, pulling Hemingway out from under his elbow. “Old books, mainly, first editions and rarities, though I do have a few of the newer best sellers in stock if only to keep up the foot traffic.”

“Really?” Gabriel asked, interest piqued. “You have a shop around here?”

Dorian reached into an inner pocket of his jacket, pulling out a business card to hand to Gabriel. It was a simple, white card embossed solely with the name of the shop and Dorian’s and a phone number. “ _Antiquis Libris_. What does that mean?”

“Old books.”

And there went Gabriel, laughing again. “I guess you can’t go wrong with truth in advertising,” he managed to sputter. “I know that would certainly make _my_ life easier.”

Dorian smirked. “I’m not very creative when it comes to things like names. I prefer to just read my books, then sell them when I’m done.”

Gabriel tucked the card into his own jacket with a grin. His mother invested in first editions from time to time, maybe she’d be interested in Dorian’s shop. His smile slipped as he thought of subjecting Dorian to his mother and thought better of it. He’d just keep the card to himself.

Dorian saw the sadness creep into the man’s eyes and moved to intervene. “All right, what has you so down that you so rarely laugh, then?”

Gabriel turned to see the other man twirling a swizzle stick in his glass, clinking the ice around as he smiled. His fingers were long, elegant, touched with just the barest dusting of ink from the pages of Hemingway that he had been reading. He was suddenly struck by the urge to wrap one of those long digits with his tongue and he had to turn away before he did or said something embarrassing. “Just thinking about the shit of the day.”

When a warm hand lay itself gently upon his upper arm Gabriel lifted his head quickly to see Dorian looking at him in concern. “I’m here and willing to listen if you wish. Sometimes it helps to talk it out. Or rant like a mad man, whatever works for you.”

Gabriel chuckled. “I don’t think subjecting you to the grind that is my life would be a good way of getting to know one another. I’d much rather talk about something more entertaining. Like nuclear war, for example.”

Dorian had never snorted in laughter before, but there was a first time for everything. “That bad?” he finally choked out, grabbing a nearby napkin to dab at the drink that had sloshed onto the bar when he jerked.

“Hmmm… maybe not _quite_ that bad, but it feels pretty damned close some days.”

“Well, what do you do then, that it seems as bad as nuclear war?”

“Advertising.”

“Advertising is as bad as nuclear war? Truly?”

Gabriel smirked into a fresh glass of bourbon. Thank the Maker for Flissa! “It’s a near thing, trust me. Especially since it’s a family business and not really something I wanted to be doing in the first place.”

Dorian nodded at that. “I think I understand, all too well as it were. Forced to follow the dreams of the family is not something I could do, myself.”

Gabriel chugged back his bourbon, noting the warm buzz that was beginning to crawl it’s way out of his stomach and out across his skin. One or two more glasses and he should be feeling no pain, just the way he liked it. “It’s funny, really. It was my brother, Robert that was supposed to take over the firm. I was slated for the clergy, like my Uncle Brian. Like all the younger Trevelyan sons. But no, he just _had_ to run off and join a band and disappear off the face of the planet for over a year and then Dad had a stroke and the whole shebang was just dropped in my lap.”

“The clergy!” Dorian gasped, fanning his face with a hand in mockery. “Say it’s not so!”

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t looking forward to that life either, but at least it was a known entity. Something I can say I was being trained for.” Gabriel smirked, nodding heavily to Flissa when she placed another drink in front of him. “I didn’t have a fucking clue how to run an advertising firm. I didn’t know squat about advertising, period! Went to school at night for that, learned the business end from the managers during the day. Was a shitty year, let me tell you.”

“But things are better now? You have an idea of what you’re doing?”

Gabriel looked over at Dorian with his concerned eyes and beautiful mouth and laughed. “Yeah, I guess. I mean, financially we’re doing better than ever before. Three big new clients in three months? That’s unheard of! But not according to my mother. As far as she’s concerned, I’m running the whole enterprise into the ground. ‘It was better when your father was in charge’,” he mocked in a high falsetto. “’ Robert would never have done that if he were in charge’, ‘Find another wife. All _real_ executives are married.’ Ugh! Sometimes…”

Dorian took a sip from his glass, Gabriel chugged back the entire thing. “ _Another_ wife? You were married?”

And just like that, Gabriel was back to feeling like shit. He slumped over the bar, cradling his empty glass between his hands wishing it were full. “Yeah. For a few months. She died.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why?” Gabriel snapped. “You didn’t kill her.” Dorian jerked back and Gabriel slumped further with contrition. “My apologies. You didn’t deserve that. It’s just…today’s the anniversary and I’m not feeling my best.”

“Of course,” the man replied, waving away the offence with a flick of the wrist. “You must have loved her deeply to be so distraught.”

Gabriel snorted, a grim smile plastered over his cheeks. “Couldn’t stand the bitch, actually. Wendy. I’d managed to bag our first big client after Dad’s stroke and I was feeling good. So good that I went out, got seriously drunk and banged the first waitress I could get my dick into. A month later she waltzes into my office saying she’s pregnant and wants to get hitched. I tell her to take a hike, come back with paternity and I’d take care of her, but she goes running to my mother- who knows how she knew to go there, but it happened. Next thing I know, I’m pressured into marrying her- ‘There will be no bastards in this family, by the Maker’s name!’- and it’s months of bitching and whining and spending money like it’s going out of style!”

Dorian reached out and gently wiped away the tear that was making it’s way down Gabriel’s cheek without his knowledge. Strange, from anyone else that would have been creepy. From this practical stranger it felt…right. “What happened?” Dorian asked softly.

“Died in child birth. She went into premature labour and died from an aneurysm. One in a million chance, they said. Completely unexpected.”

“And the baby?”

If Gabriel could have slumped any further he’d be on the floor. “Daughter. Lungs weren’t developed enough. She died a couple of hours later. They tried, they really did, but they couldn’t save her. The sun was just coming up when she took her last breath, so I named her Dawn.”

“I am sorry for your loss, Gabriel. How old would she have been?”

“Three years old today. It’s funny, if she hadn’t died I probably would never have known, not that it really would have made a difference.”

“Known what?”

“Autopsy, to officially determine cause of death. DNA test was done, and she wasn’t mine.”

“Oh Maker, Gabriel! How horrible!”

“Yeah. Conniving bitch that she was, Wendy was already up the stump and decided that I was the perfect meal ticket. But Dawn was innocent of all that and I loved her. Still do, even if she was only mine for a few hours.”

“You would have made an amazing father.”

Gabriel snorted and turned to see Dorian looking at him with the most sincere eyes he’d ever witnessed. “How do you know that?” he asked.

“The fact that, knowing that biologically she was never yours, you still claim her as your daughter. No matter what her mother put you through, no matter that she died, she is still yours.”

Gabriel was about to reply, though with what he wasn’t certain, when noises began to filter in from the front of the bar, letting him know that the more rambunctious of the blue collar crowd had arrived. With a sigh he reached for his wallet and dropped enough cash to cover both his and Dorian's drinks. “If you prefer the peace and quiet you might want to think about heading out now. The 'Asshole Crew' have just arrived.”

“The 'Asshole' Crew'?” Dorian asked.

“Well will ya lookee there!” someone called out. “A fruit basket if I ever saw one!”

Gabriel grimaced to Dorian. “Yes. The 'Asshole Crew'.”

Dorian gulped down the last of his drink and collected his book. “I see what you mean. I believe it is time for me to be off as well then.”

Gabriel followed Dorian towards the rack of coats only to stop dead when one of the newcomers stepped into Dorian's path. “We don't want yer kind here, got it fruity?”

“Really? Fruity?” Dorian gasped in derision. “That's the best you can come up with? How terribly pedestrian. Though I suppose I shouldn't expect any better from a Dog-Lord.”

_Oh Fuck!_ Gabriel watched as the man began to go from white to red and his buddies crowded in closer. Just what he needed to round out his day, homophobic nationalists and a beautiful man that couldn't keep his mouth shut. He heard Flissa squeak somewhere behind them and knew that her fingers would be reaching for the phone. Maybe now the owner might spring for a bouncer, once someone's blood was shed.

Dorian had turned his back, moving to get around the 'Asshole Crew' and so did not see the swing coming, but Gabriel did. Later he might wonder what the hell he had been thinking but for now he simply reacted, pushing Dorian from the line of fire and taking the man's punch to the side of the head.

The world swam and greyed at the edges, pain unlike anything he had felt before screaming in his head. He thought for sure he'd be falling to his knees but instead his body swung around, fist landing solidly in the middle of the larger man's gut. A pained grunt and the man doubling let him know that the hand connected, because all Gabriel could actually feel was the pounding in his head. He may have heard Dorian cry out in dismay but he wasn't certain, following one fist with another to the man's nose, relishing the feel of crunching bone and spurting blood.

Suddenly arms were grabbing him from behind, holding him in place no matter how he struggled. Assholes two and three had come to help their leader and Gabriel was fucked.

The larger man slowly stood himself straight, nose bleeding furiously. He pulled something from his pocket, switchblade popping with a soft snick. “I'm gonna fuck you up, pretty boy. Then I'm gonna cut off yer boyfriend's cock while you watch.”

_Fu-_ Gabriel didn't have a chance to finish the expletive thought before the man's blade sliced out, running across his chest from hip to pectoral. He heard the yelling of Dorian, Flissa and some of the other patrons that had come in but they seemed distant at this moment. Gabriel grit his teeth and kicked out, connecting with the big man's hip but he was quickly pulled back by his captor's.

“We ain't big on you fruity types, got it? Stay out o' our bar!” Another slice of the knife, this time along a side rib, just as sharp.

Suddenly, with the cracking sound of wood to bone, one of the men holding Gabriel released him and fell to the floor. There stood Dorian, a broom handle twirling in his fingers as he grinned. “I always thought that Fereldan was a place of equality for all. Even bigoted idiots. My mistake.” the makeshift staff swung, cracking the back of captor number two and now Gabriel was free.

Something angry, something feral, broke loose in the man and with a roar he lunged for his attacker. Fists, feet, even teeth connected with the man, causing whatever damage he could. Whatever damage he could cause, he did. He didn't even know why he was doing it, pictures of his father, wife, baby...Dorian, flashing through his mind as he swung. He could hear Dorian calling from behind him, pulling at his arms. “Stop!” he called. “Please! The idiot has friends and they're coming this way.”

Dorian's pleas cut through the fog of red and pain enough that Gabriel pulled back and stepped over the fallen man, lurching towards the door. And when Dorian wrapped his arm around his shoulder, Gabriel leaned into him and let himself be led.

  
  


  
  


  
  


He didn’t know why he didn’t decide to wait for the police to arrive, but Dorian swiftly bundled Gabriel up in his arms and did the first thing that came to mind- took him home. Half a block from the Herald’s Rest, a narrow staircase hidden next to the book store lead up to a small apartment. It needed some serious work, as far as Dorian was concerned, but then what in his life didn’t, really? The walls were dingy and in need of fresh paint, the fixtures almost as old as he was. And, of course to save money, all of his furnishings were either donations from Felix or found at the thrift shop down the road.

Dorian helped Gabriel over the threshold of his apartment and lead him to the overstuffed couch, laying him out gently, careful of his ribs, before rushing to the bathroom to gather the first aid kit under the counter. He'd been in enough scrapes growing up that he knew a good kit was essential. He then rushed back, shedding his jacket and rolling up the sleeves of his shirt before getting to work.

Gabriel groaned softly as Dorian began peeling the man's own clothing from his upper body, dried blood causing some of the cloth to stick and reopen some of the man's cuts. After a quick glance, Dorian decided that the injuries weren't quite as bad as he first feared and that most of the bleeding came from scrapes on the man's knuckles. There were a couple, however, where the asshole's knife had connected with skin, that were going to need tending. Dorian pulled out a couple of alcohol swabs and gently cleaned the areas around the cuts before applying butterfly bandages, hoping to keep the man's scarring to a minimum. The last thing Dorian wanted was for Gabriel to sport those kinds of marks in his honour.

Gabriel let out another moaning noise and Dorian shivered. What he wouldn't give to have the man making those noises for another reason. He let his eyes travel across Gabriel's chest, now that the man's shirt was open to expose his damaged skin. Carefully he pushed the edges of the shirt farther apart, taking in every inch he could. Gabriel's skin was pale, as though he didn't get enough sun, with a light smattering of dark curls along his pectorals and a thin trail leading from just below his belly button past the edge of his waistband. It took every once of restraint Dorian had not to lean down and kiss at that hair. It was also obvious that Gabriel worked out, his abdominals well defined though not overly so. Just the way Dorian liked it.

_Stop that, Pavus,_ he berated himself. _This man just took a beating for you! You will not molest him while he lies on your couch._

Gabriel was whispering something softly, eyes cracked open though glazed with pain. Dorian took up the small flashlight from the first aid kit and peeled back the man's eyelids, watching his pupils reacted to the flash of light. Thankfully, they seemed to respond normally, so threat of concussion was minimal. But he was still whispering softly, so Dorian leaned forward to hear.

“Beautiful. So beautiful.”

  
  


 

  
  


Gabriel woke with what he would have to call his worst headache ever- and that was including waking three days after high school graduation in Orlais with no idea how he got there. Everything throbbed and he refused to open his eyes until the light that was filtering in went away. Though why his curtains were even open he didn't understand. After four pm, just before his housekeeper, Eloise, left for the night, she went around the house and closed all the upstairs curtains to prevent just such an occurrence. Gabriel _really_ didn't like the light in the morning. Or at least his headaches didn't.

Come to think of it, his bed was feeling a might bit lumpier than normal and while the blanket that was pulled up over his chest was velvety soft, it smelled strangely of cinnamon and passion fruit.. And warm leather. And... books?

And that's when it all came back to him. The bar, the fight, the impossibly gorgeous man.

He sat up with a gasp, eyes wide, only to fall back just as quickly with an arm over his face. It was much too bright for his fragile constitution right now and Gabriel was fairly certain that if he moved again he would be throwing up whatever might be in his stomach all over the floor. He lay there, listening to the quiet and realized that it was just that. Quiet. _Where was Dorian? This was his place, wasn't it?_

Slowly Gabriel pulled back his arm and looked around at what he could see without moving too much. The apartment was shit, but he could see the touches that Dorian added to make it his own. Most of the furnishings were rough but of good quality, the rest obviously meant as a stop-gap until better could be purchased. What art was on the walls looked like copies from illuminated manuscripts, blown up to poster size. There was no television, but where one would naturally fit wad been replaced with a wall of bookshelves overflowing with leather-bound tomes. The whole thing was warm, comfortable. Gabriel immediately liked it.

The quiet in the air he did not. He was obviously alone in the apartment.

Gabriel sat up, much more slowly than the last time, and took a quick accounting of himself. Shirt and jacket gone, folded neatly across the back of the sofa, and chest cleaned and bandaged. Pants exactly where they should be which, for some reason, actually gave him a brief pang of disappointment. He'd been draped in a thick chenille throw of a deep burgundy that he thought would look stunning against Dorian's colouring. And on a nearby coffee table were a couple of pain relievers and a tall glass of water, condensation still beading against the glass. He smiled, looking at everything that Dorian had done for him. It had been a very long time since anyone had been so... kind. Attentive. It felt good. Now to just find the man and thank him.

The small kitchenette was- save for a small area around an older espresso machine- completely pristine, as though it were never used. _So not a cook then. Why am I not surprised?_ Down a narrow hallway Gabriel was met with three closed doors. The first was a small storage/linen closet sparsely filled with thick towels and spare sheets that were worn but seemed to be of a high thread count. A somewhat odd dichotomy, like Dorian himself.

The door across from the closet was a bedroom. And so very obviously Dorian's. A king sized mattress and box spring took up most of the floor space, laying flat with no frame, and covered in thick, colourful blankets and pillows. Everything looked hand stitched and patterned after a Tevinter style, harsh geometrics over bright colour. And what wasn't fabric was books. Countless open to be read, others used as tables for lamps and notes, and a pair of reading glasses that Gabriel thought Dorian would look adorable in.

And the clothes! The tiny closet against the far wall was filled to bursting with high-end clothing, silks and wools that appeared to have been custom made for the man. Is this what Dorian did? Saved on his living expenses so that he could buy the best clothes?

Gabriel left to open the last door, happy to find a relatively large bathroom beyond. Clean though not as untouched as the kitchen and more hygiene products than he'd ever seen owned by a man before. It made him chuckle, thinking about how hard it must be to stay as beautiful as Dorian does. Well, Gabriel didn't need any of the man's other things, just some soap to scrub up with in the sink and he'd be off.

  
  


  
  


  
  


Dorian opened the apartment door as quietly as he could, even with the interminable squeak that refused to go away no matter how he oiled the damned thing, only to find that Gabriel was no longer on the sofa. He panicked for a moment, afraid that the man had run out on him, only to sigh in relief when he heard the water running in the bathroom. Though why he should feel that way he did not understand. They barely knew each other, after all, even if Gabriel did protect him from a beating.

The water turned off and Dorian turned to busy himself in the kitchenette, retrieving plates that hadn't seen the light of day in a week and setting out the pastries he had fetched from the bakery around the corner. Normally, Dorian was an espresso in the morning before heading down to the shop kind of person, but with a guest in the apartment he felt that maybe there should be something somewhat edible available. And some small point of pride wanted to be able to supply _something_ for his erstwhile protector.

“Well, something certainly smells good.”

Dorian lifted his head with a small smile, only to be struck dumb. Gabriel stood at the mouth of the hallway, towel held loosely as he scrubbed at his damp hair, bare chested and slightly wrinkled pants riding low on his hips. _Oh my. An injured man should not look that...edible._ ”Well, I... My hero of the evening should be rewarded, even if it is cinnamon rolls and a few danishes.”

Gabriel groaned, sending shivers down Dorian's spine. “Sounds perfect. Let me just get my shirt on and I'll join you. I refuse to indulge in my reward alone.”

_Maker preserve me! Does he not realize how sinful he sounds saying things like that?_ “Why thank you, Sirrah. Let me just get us some espresso and we'll break our fast forth with.”

 

  
  


  
  


It's funny. Gabriel hadn't even realized he was bare-chested at first, caught in the beauty that was Dorian. He hadn't put as much styling product in his hair today, letting it fall across his forehead and into his eye, causing Gabriel to have to fight the urge to reach out and brush it away. He'd also traded in his button-down for a silk-blend tee shirt in a deep blood red that clung and moulded to his chest beautifully. And because the sleeves were cut short, he could now get a clearer picture of the peacock tattoo that wound it's way up the man's arm, though really it was no more than a group of tail feathers that wrapped their way around the limb. Briefly he wondered if it was part of a larger piece on his back, though the detail work was so beautiful that the feathers were really enough to catch the eye on their own.

Suddenly Gabriel realized that he could feel his cock twitching to life between his legs and he froze. Was he really getting turned on watching another man get coffee? Yes, that man put many women to shame with his looks but it's not like Gabriel had ever been attracted to men before. Had he? Well, okay, there was that one guy back in college that sucked him off when they'd both been seriously inebriated, but nothing had ever come of it again. With shaking hands he reached out and snagged his shirt from the back of the sofa and buttoned it, watching Dorian as he did.

Okay, he could admit the man was damned pretty.

“I put a notice up in the shop window that I would be opening late today, so don't feel the need to rush,” Dorian said, placing a small espresso cup before Gabriel as he sat at the small Formica table.

“Shit! What time is it?” Gabriel exclaimed, suddenly patting his pants pockets to retrieve his cell phone. Not quite ten am. Seventeen messages, sixteen from his mother, one from Josephine. Well, Mother could wait but Josie deserved to know he was still alive. He dialed his office line while Dorian sat himself across the table.

“Trevelyan Incorporated Advertising, Mister Trevelyan's office-”

“Josie! I am so very sorry that I'm not in!”

He swore he could hear the woman both smile and sigh in relief over the phone line. “Mister Trevelyan! I was quite concerned when you were not in this morning, nor answering your phone! Your mother has been calling non-stop most of the morning.”

Gabriel chuckled ruefully. “Yeah, I got that. She's been calling my cell too. I'll get her after you. Look, could you reschedule this morning's appointments? I have some things that have come up that are going to need taking care of before I can get to the office.”

“Of course, Ser,” she replied and Gabriel could hear her fingers clacking away at her computer terminal. “You only have eleven o'clock booked at this point with Solas about the Elvehn account. I'll get a hold of him and pencil in something new. If possible, would you like me to try for some time this afternoon?”

“Yeah, try that. If I put off Solas one more time he'll cut me apart!” Gabriel chuckled, thinking of the stoic elf. Poor man, whenever a meeting had to be moved around it always seemed to the Elvehn account that got screwed and Solas was hearing all about it from the clients. “I'll be in by one, all right?”

“Of course, Ser. One o'clock. And _please_ call your mother. She's beginning to tie up your office line.”

“I'll get right on that, Josie. I promise,” Gabriel replied, signing off from his secretary. Dorian was watching him with a slight grin and _oh, there goes my cock again. Damn._

“It sounds like your secretary deserves a raise,” Dorian said, waving offhandedly towards the phone.

Gabriel began typing in his mother's number, one of the few he did not have pre-programmed. He really didn't want to see it every time he went through his contacts. “If I do, it'll be the fourth one this year. She goes above and beyond, that woman. And always with a smile on her face. Best damned secretary I've ever had.”

The line only had to ring once before his mother answered and just from the sound of her voice Gabriel knew that it was going to be a bad conversation. “Where in the name of the Maker have you been? You've been avoiding me again, haven't you? What kind of a son are you that you would ignore your own mother?”

“And good morning to you, Mother dear. How was your night?”

“Don't you 'Mother dear' me, you ungrateful boy!” she screeched, and from the wince on Dorian's face, loudly enough for even the Tevinter to hear. “Robert never would have been out gallivanting all night, not calling his mother and then not go to take care of his work obligations in the morning!”

Gabriel shook his head at that, taking a sip of espresso before retaliating. He hummed at the rich taste of the drink and gave Dorian a nod of approval. That was damn good coffee. “You realize, Mother, that Robert not only ran off from his work obligations, he didn't call you _for a year_. And still hasn't come back, even after Dad's stroke.”

“At least he talks to his mother, not like some who go off to drink himself into a stupor, not letting his mother know where she can reach him in an emergency. What if, Maker forbid, your father had another stroke? What then?”

“Did Dad have another stroke, Mother?”

“Of course not.”

“Then I'm not really going to worry about it too much, am I?” Dorian snorted and Gabriel gave him a wink and a grin. Normally this was _not_ how he talked to this woman, but there was something about being in Dorian's company that made him want to be flippant with the old battleaxe. “Look, Mother, I have things that I need to do this morning before getting back to the office. Was there something specific that you needed or did you just call me sixteen times to tell me what a horrible son I am?”

“Well I never!” Oh, Gabriel could hear the righteous fury oozing through the air.

“Really? Never? Because I could probably go back through my phone logs and count the number of times if you can't remember, Mother? Have you spoken with your doctor if you're having memory lapses?”

Dorian was trying so hard to cover his laughter now that Gabriel was glad that he had pissed the woman off, even if he would be hearing about from her for months and beyond. See Dorian really laugh had his chest welling in something akin to pride.

“Gabriel, what has gotten into you,” the woman demanded.

“Nothing yet.” Oh, that had Dorian stopping and starring in surprise. “I've got to go now, Mother. Things to do, work that you foisted on me and all that. Oh, and don't bother trying to call back, my cell will be off and if you leave messages with Josie all morning and tie up the phone lines for actual clients, I will be adding your number to our blocked list.”

He hung up to the woman sputtering and couldn't help but smile. “Thank the Maker that's over and done with! Now I can enjoy my hard earned breakfast!”

 

  
  


  
  


When Gabriel left an hour later Dorian locked up his apartment and prepared for another day in the shop. Like most mornings, he began by cleaning the epithets sprayed on his windows- this time a sassy little bit of prose along the lines of 'Vints Go Home- then unlocking the front entry and starting in on his emails for possible orders or estate sale advertisements.

But as soon as he got the computer booted up, he immediately Googled Gabriel Trevelyan. He had no idea why, except that when Gabriel had thanked him for the place to rest the night and bid him goodbye, Dorian hadn't wanted him to leave. He wanted to ask the man to stay, to be there when he turned around, when he closed up the shop at night. When he crawled into bed in the wee hours of the morning, after a long evening of talking. Or... something.

Okay, he could admit it. He was looking for anything and everything that he could on the man, preferably something he could use to coax the man back into his apartment. And to be totally honest with himself, if he could find some photos he would be doubly pleased.

The first few things were articles about Trevelyan Incorporated and it's sudden rise in the advertising world. Not that it was doing bad before, but apparently with the injection of fresh blood newer companies were flocking to them for their services and Trevelyan was suddenly one of the most sought after advertisers in the country. In fact since Gabriel's thrust into the head honcho's seat, Trevelyan's profit margin had risen exponentially every quarter. And when Dorian saw some examples of their work he could see why. The art was colourful and eye catching, the music memorable but not overpowering. In fact, up until last year when Trevelyan took over the advertising for Elvehn Botanicals, Dorian had barely heard of them. Now they could be found on every pharmacists shelves around Thedas.

Oh and there were pictures! So very many, since Gabriel was now apparently _the_ man to know! Most in suits similar to the beautiful ensemble he had sported yesterday, but also in well-pressed golf shirts at sporting or picnic functions, a tuxedo from some gala or other, and a candid shot of him in Bermuda shorts dripping water from the ocean- apparently off the coast of Antiva during his honeymoon to Wendy the Waitress- that Dorian saved to his hard drive. But his favourite had to be the Santa suit.

Apparently Trevelyan Advertising hosted a children's Christmas function incorporating both the local homeless shelter and hospital. They took over the food court for the day, then visited the kids that couldn't make it out of their rooms, giving gifts and sweets and just making the day more palatable. And last year Gabriel dressed himself up to be Santa, complete with pillow stomach and fake beard. The picture showed Gabriel sitting on the ground with a little girl in her nightgown, teddy bear gripped tightly in her arms, sitting on his lap while a teary-eyed mother looked on. This one Dorian printed out and pinned to the wall beside his desk. Not long after a customer came wandering in but throughout the day, whenever he needed to come to the office, he would glimpse the picture and smile.

  
  


  
  


  
  


 

Gabriel spent the rest of that day- the rest of the week to be honest- thinking about the beautiful, dark-skinned man from the bar. He would drift off during meetings thinking about silver grey eyes. During company pitches he'd think to himself 'What would Dorian think about this?' or 'I wonder if Dorian uses something like this'. Or the most often asked question on his mind, 'I wonder what Dorian is doing right now?'

And it still took Gabriel a week to get up the courage to go back to the bar to try and find the man.

The atmosphere was very different when he entered The Herald's Rest this time around. Not just the number of happy patrons- which was unheard of at this time of day to say the least- but the actual quality of the air. Gabriel realized what it was when he spied the first of what turned out to be many 'No Smoking' signs posted throughout the bar. The other was the giant, hulking, _beast_ of a man sitting on a stool near the door, arms crossed over his chest and glaring at him as he strode farther into the establishment. When Flissa called out a greeting, though, he leaned back with a warm smile that he found he had to return.

“No drink today, Flissa,” Gabriel said, sidling up to the bar. “I was just looking for Dorian.”

“The man you saved?” she gushed. _Saved? Well I guess if you call getting beat up on his behalf 'saving' then sure, why not?_ “Sorry, he ain't been in since that night.”

“Damn,” Gabriel said with a frown. “I had my hopes.” And Gabriel found that he really _had_ been hoping to find the man here, sipping at his wine and reading some new tome or other that maybe they could discuss over a glass or two. He was more disappointed than he would have thought, so much so that he didn't notice at first that Flissa had reached out to touch his hand to get his attention.

“Didn't he give you a card, Ser? I would swear I saw him do it.”

_The card!_ Gabriel fumbled in his pockets until he extricated his wallet and found the little white card Dorian had handed him. _Antiquis Libris_ , and a phone number. _Yes!_ “Flissa, you are sent by the Maker! I'd kiss you but I'm pretty sure the big guy over there would kick my ass.” A rumbled laugh behind him let Gabriel know that the man had heard and approved. Not wanting to be drowned out by the noise of the bar patrons, Gabriel bid farewell to Flissa and the new bouncer and made his way outside, dialing his cell as he walked.

It was picked up on the first ring but a service message began playing, Dorian's honeyed voice giving the store's hours of operation and address. _Wait, address! Didn't Dorian live above the store?_ And for the hundredth time Gabriel wished he'd been a little more cognizant of where he was when he left the week before, but with his head pounding the way it had been, he'd been lucky to find his feet, let alone his way home. According to the message- which he ended up having to play multiple times because he was continually distracted by Dorian's voice- Gabriel was only a block and half from the shop, so off he walked, window shopping as he went.

Haven, as far as towns went, was small and somewhat rural. In fact, Trevelyan Inc was probably one of it's biggest employers. But it was growing and Gabriel saw this in the number of new businesses opening around him. And not just hardware stores and groceries, either, though they were still in attendance, but things like fine jewellery and clothing, handmade furnishings, even a wine and cheese shop where you could bottle your own. And the businesses seemed to be doing well, or at least weren't completely empty. It was heartening to see.

_Antiquis Libris_ , on the other hand, was shut tight, and Gabriel sighed in dismay. He looked around, hoping to maybe spy the man but no suck luck. There was a cafe nearby, maybe he could wait and watch for him there? _No, that's a bit...stalkery._ Spying the entry door leading upstairs, Gabriel had the brilliant idea to go up and wait outside the man's door instead. Still stalkery, but at least the rest of the street wouldn't be watching him do it.

  
  


  
  


  
  


Dorian fumbled with his keys as he approached the door next to the shop, heavy paper grocery bags balanced in each arm. He hated having to do his own groceries. He remembered the first time he had done it after moving to Haven, never having had to worry about it before in his life. Standing in front of the wall of breads, flustered to near tears over having to choose which kind, there were just so many! And how a young mother with a toddler on her hip had taken his hand and told him it would all be all right. That bread wasn't the end of the world, and if he chose something he didn't like, he could feed it to the ducks and try again. Now, of course, he had no real issues with shopping in and of itself, just the crowds that filled the shop this late in the afternoon. Dorian had never been a fan of crowds.

It wasn't until he got the door to finally budge from where it stuck in the door frame that Dorian realized there was a commotion happening on the landing before his door. His neighbour, Mrs. Piacosta, was flailing at something with her broom, swearing colourfully and loud in thick Antivan while her Pomeranian yapped even louder. From his angle at the bottom of the stairs Dorian couldn't see the most recent victim of her ire but judging by the height her broom was hitting it's opponent, it wasn't a rat this time.

“ _Senora Piacosta! Che cosa succede?”_ _W_ _hat is going on_ Dorian called.

“ _Intruso!_ ” intruder she replied shrilly. “ _Ho trovato lui furtivamente nel tuo appartamento_.” _I found him sneaking into your apartment_

“I wasn't trying to break in!” a familiar voice called out and Dorian had to smile. “I was just...waiting.”

“Waiting, hm?” Dorian said, slowly making his way up the stairs, letting his neighbour have free reign with her broom, much to Gabriel's dismay. “Waiting for what, prey tell?”

“Waiting for- OW! Stop that!- waiting for you. I thought maybe we could- cut that out!- have dinner or something.”

Dorian chuckled. “ _Va tutto bene, Senora Piacosta. Calmati.”I_ _t's all right, Mrs. Piacosta. Calm down._ He shifted a grocery bag to awkwardly hold them both in one arm so that he could reach out to pat the woman on a thin, but obviously not frail, shoulder. “ _L_ _ui mio amico. Questo Gabriel_ _.” He's my friend. This is Gabriel._

Slowly the woman pulled back her broom, the small, yapping dog calming along with his owner. “ _Il tuo amico?”_ _Your friend._

“ _Si, Senora Piacosta. Mio Amico Gabriel_.” _Yes, Mrs. Piacosta. My friend Gabriel._

Suddenly the woman cried out, dropping the broom and rushing forward to pat and pull at Gabriel's clothing, trying to straighten the mess she had made of him. “ _Sono cos dispiaciuto!”_ _I'm so sorry!_ she repeated over and over as Gabriel laughingly tried to brush her hands away, telling her that it was all right, he was fine, mistakes happen. Now the dog was yapping again, but in a happy, playful manner, twining himself around Gabriel's ankles. With a grin she patted the man on the chest then turned to enter her apartment, only to return a moment later, thrusting a bottle of wine into his hands with a knowing look, eyes darting from him to Dorian and back. “ _Vino. Per stanotte.”_ _Wine. For tonight._

  
  


  
  


“Is your neighbour always like that?

“Like what, may I ask? Over protective?”

Gabriel placed the wine down on the kitchenette counter while Dorian rummaged through the grocery bags he had brought in. “To say the least. I would swear she bruised my back, swatting me like that.”

“Yes, well, apparently I remind her of one of her grandsons or some such,” Dorian replied with a wave of his hand as though to brush the whole affair away. “I'm also the first person to speak with her in her native language in over a decade so she has every reason to keep me around.”

Gabriel sat at the little Formica table nearby and watched as Dorian put away what turned out to be the barest of essentials to keep himself alive. Apparently when Dorian said he didn't cook, he meant it. “How many languages do you speak?”

Dorian stopped and stood in thought for a moment. “Fluently or just in passing?”

“Um... both?”

“Fluently there's Tevene, Trade and Anitvan, obviously, as well as Orlesian. I also know a smattering of Rivaini and Nevarran, enough to order in restaurants and possibly start a barfight, in that order. I can read a few words in Elvehn but I don't know the pronunciations and I want to learn to speak Anders, if only to be able to speak with a book seller I know that has trouble with Trade. It would make our dealings much easier for the both of us.”

Gabriel stared, dumbfounded. “That many? Really?”

Dorian chuckled. “You think I would lie about such a thing? Shall I give you a demonstration?”

Gabriel laughed. “No, no. I'm sure you are quite talented, I would hate to disparage how good you are with your tongue.”

The words were out of his mouth before he realized exactly what he had said. He hoped Dorian would miss the entendre but, of course, he didn't, frozen with a look of surprise for a moment before schooling his features with a smile. You have no idea just how talented my tongue can be, good ser.

He watched the darker man turn his back and flit about the kitchenette as though he were actually accomplishing anything. Did he really just say something that suggestive to the man? Did he really just _reciprocate_? Gabriel had to know for sure. He stood, making his way around the small table and the counter that separated them, sliding between Dorian and the cupboards he was facing. Dorian's face was flushed with heat, just as Gabriel's was. The man's pupils were blown wide, just as he was sure his own were. And when Gabriel took a hold of Dorian's shoulders, he was shaking, just as Gabriel was.

 

  
  


  
  


Dorian stared into Gabriel's blue eyes and wondered when he had lost control of the situation. How in the name of the Maker had he gone from putting staples away to staring this close into the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen? He gasped at the grip upon his shoulders and had he been a lesser man he would have swooned at the scent of the man as it assaulted his senses. Sunshine and musk wrapped around him like a blanket and sent a shiver straight to his cock and beyond. Unconsciously he leaned forward to take in more of the man's intoxicating aroma, taking a deep breath, pulling it in. His lips were so close to the man's pulse as he breathed he could feel the blood pumping just under the skin and when Gabriel sighed softly and leaned forward towards him, Dorian couldn't help his tongue licking out to taste the flesh there. He tasted of salty sweat and something very Gabriel.

Gabriel moaned, one hand sliding up to cup the back of Dorian's head while the other moved down to rest lightly upon his hip. Dorian's arms wrapped around the other man to rest upon the counter behind him as he mouthed at his neck. His fingers were warm against Dorian's skin, slightly calloused at the tips, from what he wasn't certain. They weren't hard so much as just slightly raised, enough to cause a delicious friction and he shivered at the thought of how they would feel against his cock.

Suddenly Gabriel pulled away with a gasp, eyes wide, lips thick and bruised from their kiss. His hands dropped as though releasing fire and he slid away from Dorian almost in a panic. He took a step toward Gabriel only to have him back away, hands raised to push Dorian away. “I'm- I'm sorry! I didn't mean to-!”

“Gabriel? It's all right,” Dorian attempted to soothe, but the man wanted no part in it. He began stuttering apologies, waving his hands as he backed away to the door before fleeing.

Dorian just stood and stared at the door as it slammed shut before him. _Wait, what just happened there?_

  
  


  
  


  
  


Gabriel fled. He raced down the sidewalks until he reached the office, then continued to flee in his car as fast and far as he could go, thanking his forethought that had him drive himself this morning instead of suing a company car and driver. But the feel of Dorian's lips, his skin beneath his fingers, wouldn't leave him. What in the Maker had he done? Kissed another man? Pulled him in close, scented at his skin, rutted against his clothed cock like a bull in heat? What was _wrong_ with him?

And a man? He preferred women, didn't he? He had lain with a woman, with Wendy the Bitch, hadn't he? Of course, considering that he had been slated for the clergy before the whole Wendy fiasco, he hadn't exactly had any other experience, but he'd been happy enough with a woman that he had fucked her. Is that also what he wanted to do with Dorian? The idea of fucking him, of being fucked by him, had Gabriel's cock hardening even as he panicked so it must be the case.

_Maker! The feel of the man! So warm and smelling faintly of cinnamon, like spiced wine._ Gabriel shivered in the leather of his seat as the last dwellings of Haven sped past and the Frostbacks rose on the horizon. The sight of Dorian's lips, swollen with kisses, caused his heart to speed.

_What in the Void is wrong with me?_ Gabriel asked himself, finally realizing exactly where he was and what he had done. _I ran out! I left the man hanging in his kitchen like a scared little child!_ Trying to pull back his panic, Gabriel pulled over as far as he could to the shoulder to the road. Some huge tractor-trailer roared past, horn blaring, which did absolutely nothing to help calm his heart.

“Fuck!”he screamed to no one in particular, hand flying up to rest against his chest, panting heavily from the scare. He sat there, slowly calming his heart and lungs, watching snow fall softly outside as the cars and trucks came and went from Haven. Well, until his cell phone rang, scaring the shit out of him once again, causing him to jump in his seat. He fumbled in his jacket until he could find the offending object and snap out a terse “What?”

The person on the other end paused, breath soft. “Gabriel?”

_Shit!_ He considered hanging up but if there was one thing he hated, it was rudeness. “Dorian. What do you need?”

“I simply wanted to be certain you were all right,” he replied, voice tense. “You ran out rather abruptly.”

Gabriel sighed deeply, shoulders curling in towards himself as the guilt settled. “I'm...I'm very sorry, Dorian. I should never...”

“Never what, Gabriel? Kissed me? Or never should have enjoyed it?”

Gabriel blinked in surprise, gripping the phone a little tighter in his hand. Dorian sounded angry. “No, it's not that-”

“Not what?” Oh yes, Dorian was definitely sounding angry now. Shriller as he spoke. “I understood that things were more liberal here in the south, certainly more liberal than in Tevinter. But it's not, is it? There are racists and bigots and homophobic plebeians no matter where you go or how forward thinking they say they are! Well, you needn't put yourself out again, Gabriel. Go back to your safe little world where you mourn your lost child and fight with your horrid mother, and pretend that everything is exactly as you have been told it should be for your entire life. Good bye!”

The click of Dorian's phone sounded more like the clanging of metal doors in his ears. He began dialing the man back, desperate to try and explain himself if he could, but the sudden blare of a trucks horn and the screaming of his brakes cut him off.

  
  


  
  


  
  


The sun's rays had long since vanished over the horizon, his apartment bathed in darkness but Dorian didn't notice as he paced back and forth, fingers plucking at the silk of his shirt or twisting the rings on his fingers. Once he had calmed himself after hanging up with Gabriel he realized what an ass he had been. Gabriel had probably panicked because he had never been with another man before! He remembered how he had reacted the first time he had kissed a man. How he had been so scared he ran to the nearest bush and thrown up the impressive dinner he had had not long before. How he had trembled and curled in on himself until the other man had taken him into his arms and rocked him until he was calm. It had been just what he needed and what had he done when Gabriel needed the same care? Called him and berated him with accusations that were completely untrue.

And then when Dorian had tried to call him back to apologize, an automated voice told him that the phone was not currently in service.

_Damn it all to the Void!_ How was he supposed to apologize if Gabriel wouldn't pick up his phone? Of course he was lucky to have found the man's number in the first place, lucky that the store's phone recorded the numbers of all incoming calls whether they leave a message or not. And now that number wasn't working.

Dorian reached for his cell once again, even knowing that it wasn't going to work, when it rang. Praying that it was Gabriel he answered before it could ring a second time. “Hello? Gabriel?”

“Is this Dorian Pavus of _Antiquis Libris_?” a woman asked.

Dorian's body sagged in defeat. “Yes, but I'm afraid the shop is closed at the moment.”

“I'm not a customer, Serrah. This is Warden Memorial Hospital calling. Are you acquainted with a Mister Gabriel Trevelyan?”

His breath caught as his heart stopped. _Hospital? Gabriel-_

“Ser?”

“Ah! Yes! Yes, Gabriel and I are... friends. We're friends,” he stuttered.

“I'm sorry to tell you that Mister Trevelyan has been in a serious accident. His phone was destroyed and the only contact we were able to find was your business card in his wallet. Are you able to possibly contact any family members he might have?”

Dorian thought back to their few conversations and realized that he really didn't know all that much about who Gabriel's family were. But there was someone who might. “I will get in contact with someone that can find them then be at the hospital myself. Is that sufficient?”

“Yes, thank you very much, Magister Pavus,” the woman replied. “That would be very helpful indeed.”

“How is he?” Dorian was too distraught to correct the woman's assumption of his family.

“I'm afraid I cannot give specifics to non-family but suffice it to say... it's not particularly good.”

  
  


  
  


  
  


It took him thirty-seven minutes to track down Josephine Montilyet. He started by calling Trevelyan Inc. He knew at this late hour the offices would be closed but employees were listed in the office directory and he had heard Gabriel speak with her the morning he woke in his apartment. He tried her personal office number first but, of course, she had long since headed home for the night. Luckily her number was listed in the local phone book and one last call got her on the line.

Her voice was thick with sleep when she mumbled hello into the receiver and Dorian looked up to see the clock over the stove read 11:56. “My apologies, my lady,” he started. “But I'm looking for Josephine Montilyet.”

“Speaking.” She was more awake now, and even with that one word he could hear the crisp Antivan accent.

“My name is Dorian Pavus and I'm an acquaintance of Gabriel's.”

“Oh!” she exclaimed. “Yes, he's spoken of you frequently over the last week. But what are you doing calling me?”

Dorian took a deep breath. “The hospital phoned me that there has been an accident.” He heard her gasp over the line. “I'm afraid I do not have the numbers for any of his family and I was wondering...”

“Of course, Mister Pavus! I will go to the office and call them from there. Are you at the hospital now?”

“No but I will be soon. Please have them meet with me as soon as possible.”

“Of course, Ser. Is there anything I can tell them about his condition?”

Dorian sighed, shaking his head even though he knew the woman couldn't see. “I don't know, Miss Montilyet, but it doesn't sound good.”

  
  


  
  


  
  


They weren't going to let him in at first until he threw a fit and the woman that he had spoken to originally came forward and allowed him in. He wasn't pleased with himself for how he acted, but at this point he would do next to anything to get in and see Gabriel.

And as soon as he did he wished he could turn right back around and forget it all.

He seemed more bandage and wires than man, legs trussed up in the air like a Satinalia bird ready for the roast. His arms were as bad, tied down to boards to keep the multitude of IVs and sensors from coming undone. His head was wrapped in bloodstained gauze that covered from his crown to his nose, only one closed eye visible. And what little skin that could be seen was a multitude of swollen bruises and contusions.

The woman from the phone stood behind Dorian as he watched the machines help Gabriel breathe. He really should learn the woman's name he thought distractedly to himself. It simply would not do to call her 'woman' all the time. “Apparently,' she began softly, “Mister Trevelyan was pulled over to the side of the road, sitting in his car when he was hit from behind by a tractor-trailer doing significantly above the speed limit. Thankfully he was still wearing his seatbelt, it more than likely saved his life.”

Dorian stared at Gabriel and shuddered at the thought of the man lying dead inwaitstead of swathed in bandages. “How bad?” he asked in a whisper.

“Broken right and left tibia, broken left wrist, hairline fracture to the right clavicle, contusions to a large proportion of his body. The worst is where his head hit the steering wheel, causing bruising to the brain.” Dorian gasped, fingers flying to his lips to keep the sobs from escaping. “We've done everything medically possible to stabilize him. It's in the Maker's hands now.”

“When will he be liable to wake up?”

“Assuming that the swelling doesn't worsen in the night, he should wake within the next twelve to twenty-four hours.”

Dorian nodded, though really he had no idea what he had just heard. His brain had stuttered at the idea of Gabriel's brain swelling, knowing just how much damage that could do. With another, stronger nod he began to shed his coat and move towards the bed.

“I'm sorry, Magister Pavus, only family-”

Dorian rounded on the woman. “Look here! Firstly I am not a Magister, my father is and I am not about to follow in his despicable footsteps. Secondly, this man's secretary is in the process of contacting his family and until such time as one of them see fit to remove me, I am not leaving him alone, is that understood?”

The woman paled under his scrutiny and nodded before baking out of the room, leaving the two of them alone. Dorian sighed, settling first his coat, then himself, in the barely padded wingback chair near the bed. When he found that he couldn't reach Gabriel's hand, he stood and scraped the heavy thing closer to the bed, reaching through the rails to grasp the few fingers that were uncovered. With a soft sob Dorian settled in to wait.

  
  


  
  


  
  


When Dorian walked out a few hours later with the sun rising through the windows of Gabriel's room, he found a dark-skinned woman curled over a laptop, wedged into a terrible hard plastic chair in the waiting room, dressed in what could only be called her nightgown and a long black trench coat. Her thick black hair had been swept up into a dishevelled bun at the nape of her neck as though she had been pulled from her bed and set right to work, which seemed to actually be the case. When she looked up he could see that she was holding back tears with force of personality alone. Going with his gut Dorian asked “Ms. Montilyet?”

Her eyes lit up in recognition and she tried to set aside her computer and right herself from the chair while simultaneously straighten her hair and coat. “Messere Pavus? How is he? The nurses here absolutely refused to tell me anything! I've been emailing clients since I got here to postpone any meetings and certain employees that are going to need to step in and-”

Dorian took her shaking hand and patted it. “Please, Ms. Montilyet, don't fret. Gabriel is resting right now and probably will for some hours yet. Please, sit and tell me if you were able to reach his family.”

Josephine scowled as she sat back in her chair, Dorian taking the one next to her. Hospital chairs should be outlawed, he thought to himself, trying to find that one spot that was somewhat more comfortable than the others. “I don't care if it costs me my position, I will never speak with that woman again for as long as I live!”

Dorian almost snorted at the indignant tone. “I assume you are speaking about Gabriel's mother?”

“Oh, Messere Pavus, she was horrible! It was as though she did not care that her son was injured, except in that if he were in the hospital he could not run the company. She said 'Maybe now Robert will do what he was supposed to and do things properly'. I had to bite my tongue to keep from saying some seriously awful things to her.”

Dorian took in the woman's frilled, long-sleeved gown that reached all the way to the base of her chin and smirked, wondering just what this prim woman thought might be that awful. “Should I assume she will not be coming then?”

“Not until after her appointment at the hairdressers, apparently,” Josephine scoffed. “Sometime this afternoon.”

“Well, good hair _is_ something that needs a lot of work, after all.” When Josephine gave him an incredulous look her smirked. “A joke, Ms. Montilyet. And a bad one at that.”

She nodded and patted the back of his hand gently. And suddenly Dorian wanted to throw his head down in this woman's lap and cry like a baby. She seemed to sense this and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him into a hug. He was stiff at first, unsure of how to react, but the longer she held him the more he relaxed into her hold until he was gripping the back of her coat and sobbing into the crease of her neck.

When was the last time he had really cried? Not just with frustration or fake tears to entice a possible lover, but really and truly cried. When Halward sent him off to be reprogrammed? When Aquinea turned her back on him when it didn't work? No, neither of those. No, he thought back, he hadn't really cried since he had been twelve years old and his Grandmother, Belinia Pavus, had died. The one person int he family that had understood that his heart hadn't been meant for the love of a woman or continuing the Pavus line. The one person he had been able to really open up to and talk about anything that he wanted without fear of repercussions. When she had died he had cried tears of heartfelt loss. Right up until his father had slapped him across the face for acting like a child.

Dorian wasn't sure how long he had sat with her like that, his tears seeping through the supposedly water resistant coat to soak into her nightgown, but when he finally lifted his head they were no longer alone in the small lounge. Josephine smiled at them all so apparently they were welcome but Dorian was immediately on edge, smoothing back his hair and attempting to put his moustache to rights.

The Qunari was the first person he saw, seeing as he took up a good quarter of the room, with horns that flared out to either side of his head and a patch covering his left eye. The big man smiled jovially and gave him a slight wave, even though his people and the Tevinter Imperium were mortal enemies. The younger human male that stood at the Qunari's side, however, was glaring daggers. A surprisingly tall elvehn man stood at the array of windows watching the sun as it continued to rise, filling the room with light. He clutched at his elbows as though he couldn't get warm though he was swathed in at least two sweaters that Dorian could see. Seated nearby was a dark-haired man with a beard so thick it was a sweater all of its own.

Dorian quickly drew himself, putting on his most professional face and wiping at his eyes. Wouldn't do for others to see him like this. Josephine straightened her nightgown as she stood and made her way to the others. “Bull, Krem, I'm glad you came,” she said, patting the Qunari on the chest affectionately.

“Krem 'n I are gonna have to go before the office opens but we couldn't go before stopping in to check on the boss,” the man grumbled, motioning loosely towards his companion, who was now making Dorian distinctly uncomfortable.

“Oh, my apologies,” Josephine exclaimed, reaching back to motion for Dorian to come forward. “Messere Dorian Pavus, let me introduce the Iron Bull, head of our security department and his second, Cremisius Aclassi.”

Dorian reached out to shake the men's hands, though Krem still appeared angry. “A pleasure were it not for the circumstances,” Dorian said. “Messere Aclassi, am I correct in assuming you, too, are from Tevinter.”

To say that the man's yes was clipped would be an understatement.

“Ignore Krem de la crème, he's got a serious issue with the upper eschalon,” Bull chuckled.

“Thanks a lot, Chief,” Krem mumbled under his breath.

“Yes, well, my father may be a Magister but here I am only a humble book seller. Nothing upper eschalon about me,” Dorian scoffed, causing Krem to roll his eyes and stomp off.

“Guess we're heading off to work then,” Bull said with a smiling nod to Josie and Dorian. “I'll stop in again after shift and call me if he wakes or you guys need anything.”

“Thank you, Bull,” Josie replied. “I'll do that. I'll be working from here today, but if there are any issues could you inform the office that I'll be in tomorrow?”

“Sure thing, Jose. And the two of you get some sleep, got it?”

Dorian nodded absently, knowing that there was no way he was going to sleep today. Not until he knew exactly how Gabriel was. It took him a moment before he realized that Josephine was introducing the other people in the room. “Messere Pavus, this is Solas and Blackwall. Solas is one of our graphic artist and Blackwall is an advertising agent specializing in some of our more esoteric accounts.”

Dorian nodded to each, “Please call me Dorian. All this 'Messere Pavus' has me thinking my father is standing behind me.”

Both men nodded to him in acknowledgement and Blackwall moved forward to wrap an arm around Josie's shoulder. Seeing that she was well taken care of Dorian wandered off to find the cantina to fetch coffees. Something told him he'd be drinking a lot of hospital coffee in the next little while.

  
  


  
  


  
  


Dorian returned to the lounge with four coffees and a bag of single sugars and cream only to be confronted with an angry matron. Josephine was trying to be the voice of calm with Blackwall behind her, living up to his namesake, while Solas had moved to take up a spot of wall near the door leading to the Intensive Care area. The woman was obviously older, but so coiffed and tightened and slathered in expensive clothes that it was hard to tell an exact age, anywhere from fifty to eighty, really. Dorian had seen that sad image so many times over the years it no longer fazed him in the slightest.

“You!” she screeched, turning on him. “Who are you? What are you doing here? This is my poor boy's death bed-”

Dorian felt the world drop at his feet before Josephine interjected. “Gabriel is not dying, Mrs. Trevelyan. Please, you must calm down before you disrupt other patients.”

“Other patients are of no concern to me, _Ms._ Montilyet. And I want to know who this man is and why he's here. Is that so difficult to understand?”

Oh Dorian really did not like this woman. Not at all. “Josephine, why don't you take these coffees and make sure the others get some while I speak with Gabriel's mother.” Josephine nodded with a grateful smile and took the tray of drinks from him so that he could turn his attention to the older woman. Who was turning a lovely shade of red, if he could say so himself. “Now, Mrs. Trevelyan, my name is Dorian Pavus and I am a friend of Gabriel's.”

“Gabriel doesn't have any friends,” she scoffed.

“Really?” Dorian raised an eyebrow and looked around the room at the others. “It seems he has a fair number of friends to me.”

She waved a hand dismissively. “They aren't friends, they're employees. Nothing more.”

“Well isn't that strange? I can't think of an employee that's paid to rush to the emergency room when her boss is in an accident, not bothering to change out of her night clothes, in order to make sure that he is going to be all right. I can't think of any employees that would arrive at Intensive Care at the crack of dawn to wait for word that their boss would recover. And I certainly can't think of a mother that would wait to visit her injured son until _after her hair appointment._ ”

“Well you certainly aren't his friend! I would know! I know everything that goes on in Gabriel's life. He couldn't manage without me!” Oh, she was turning almost purple now. It was glorious.

“No, I might not be his friend, not after some of the things I said to him, but I want to be. I want to be more than that if he'll let me.” And Droain realized that he did. He would happily be Gabriel's friend and more.

“More?” she screeched, loud enough to cause Dorian to cringe. “What are you saying, that my son's some sort of...fruit?”

“Is that really the word you wish to use? You believe I am calling your son an apple? Some lovely grapes, just sweet enough to burst on the tongue? Oh what a wonderful thought.” Dorian was enjoying this now and was wondering how much farther he could get this to run.

Apparently not long at all, as Hospital Security sauntered in. The tall, blond adonis whose nametag read Alistair, took one look around at the tableau and immediately turned to the elder woman. “I've been asked by hospital staff to escort you outside, ma'am.”

Oh the glorious colours her face turned now. For a brief moment Dorian was thankful that they were in a hospital when it looked as though she were going to explode, but eventually she agreed to be lead into a nearby elevator. Josephine stepped up next to Dorian and handed him a coffee as the two of them watched the elevator doors close.

“Well,” she said softly. “Never thought I'd see the day.”

“Try dealing with the Tevinter Magisterium. She was nothing.”

  
  


  
  


  
  


For the longest time the only thing Gabriel could hear was the pumping of his own blood in his ears. Pain unlike anything he had ever felt would swell with each beat, and then a soft whooshing sound would send it floating away once again. He tried counting how many times it happened but the fading brought a loss to his senses that made that impossible. Eventually he registered a different noise, a welcome noise, a voice he was afraid he would never hear again.

He couldn't make out words, only the soft sussurations, the intake and exhale of breath, the honeyed tone. He sounded sad and tired, something Gabriel never wanted to hear in his voice. He turned slightly towards the voice, though the pain of the action drew a groan from his lips.

“Gabriel?” the voice whispered, so much closer now, breath ghosting across his skin. “Gabriel, are you awake?”

Try as he might, Gabriel couldn't move or make another noise. The voice waited a moment then the feeling of breath moved away. Gabriel would have sighed if he could have.

“I guess not yet. Still need your beauty sleep, do you, _Amatus_? That's all right, I can wait. I'll wait forever if that's what's needed. I reacted so very badly, and I need to apologize for that. I need to tell you that I'm sorry for what I said and I'm sorry if I moved too quickly for you. We can stay friends, never moving beyond that, I swear. I just don't want to lose you as my friend. I know we haven't known each other long, barely hours really in the grand scheme of things, but I feel as though i”ve known you forever. You're the first person, aside from one of my book clients, that's really cared enough to step in on my behalf. And Varric does it for business reasons. You do it for...I don't even know. You do it because that's who you are.

I spoke with Josephine today. Quite a bit actually. Met a few other of your employees. They are all quite devoted to you, more like family than a workforce. It was... enlightening. She left a short time ago, by the way. Spent the entire day here, dressed in nothing but her nightgown and a trench coat, while working on her laptop to keep your office running. She deserves a bigger raise. In fact, she should be running that company, not you. I told her as much and she swore. Swore! Everyone in the room was in complete shock, let me tell you. She says she'll be back in the morning to check in and then will be opening your office to man the phone lines in your absence.”

“Tell her she makes more than me now,” Gabriel managed to croak out, throat rougher than he thought.

“Gabriel!” the voice exclaimed. “ _Amatus_ , please open your eyes now. I need to be sure you're still in there.”

Gabriel chuckled and began to crack open his eyes, only to slam them back shut again. “Too bright,” he groaned.

“Shit,” the voice muttered. He felt the man move away and heard the click of the switch. “It's done.”

Gabriel cracked his eyes open again, slower in the gloom of the room. At first all he sees is the ceiling until the voice moves into his line of sight. He breathes out a pleased smile. “Dorian.”

“Well you haven't lost your ability to recognize beauty.”

He chuffs out a laugh only to groan in pain. Everything hurts in some way, shape or form. Dorian's brows draw down in concern and he hits a button situated on the bedrail near his hand. When a nurse comes in she smiles ang greets him and takes note of his vitals before adding a little something to his I.V line. He feels it in his blood right away and is saddened by it. He doesn't want to sleep, he wants to talk to the voice- Dorian. He wants to talk to Dorian so very badly.

“Dorian,” his voice is so soft he's almost afraid he can't be heard, but Dorian moves in closer, his ear hovering over Gabriel's lips. “Dorian, I...” _love you_.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Why not visit me on Tumblr (@tatteredspiderweb) I update some of my stories as I work as well as show pics of my Dragon Age themed crafts and inspiration boards.


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